Ambient Raven
by Tormentor488
Summary: Probably just a short one-shot. I was partially compelled to write it based on past experiences with Ambien. Slight BB/Rae. UPDATE: Added chapter two. Might add more later.
1. Chapter 1

It all started after we defeated Trigon in our final showdown. I was absolved of the demon- my father- that haunted and tortured me endlessly. I was no longer a portal. The apocalypse ended and, somehow, life continued as usual. Just as it had before.

For a while.

Then, the nightmares began. Nightmares of a second coming and some unresolved tension. That he would return and I would channel him into the mortal realm once more. I guess you could say _that_ is when it all really began.

I was reluctant to sleep. All-nighters became common. Sometimes, I could string two or three together. It was miserable, but at least I wasn't terrorized by my dreams. It wasn't sustainable, though. A few fainting episodes and sleeping through a mission compelled my friends to urge me to see a doctor. Reluctantly, I complied.

I explained the nightmares to him. The dread of slumber, and, oftentimes, the resulting inability to fall asleep. I explained how, even when I wanted to, sleep wouldn't come easily. If at all.

He assured me that this wasn't something he hadn't seen before. Nightmares, night terrors, sleep dread, what have you. He told me it was nothing to worry about. He had something for me.

In my sleep-deprived, desperate state, I was eager for whatever help I could get.

10 MG of Ambien, as needed.

As I would soon discover, the "as needed" clause would become my undoing.

The first night I took it, I passed out within minutes. I slept nearly a full 14 hours, and awoke totally refreshed. I'd caught up with most of the sleep I'd missed. I was so elated and relieved I honestly shed a tear or two. He was right. I'd be fine. And, for a while, I was.

One week went by.

Two.

Three.

A month.

Nearly two.

That was the end, though. I began to notice it wasn't knocking me out as easily anymore. It irritated me, and I considered upping the dose. But I didn't want to abuse the drug. As long as I stuck to 10 MG, I'd be fine. It just might take a little longer to get to sleep.

At first, it was just by a margin of ten minutes, then twenty, thirty, and so on. Eventually, it took nearly an hour to take me out.

It was already too late, though.

If you know anything about hypnotics, you realize the weird shit it will do to your head if you resist sedation. The more I acclimated to the drug, the more I recognized each stage as it came. The mild euphoria that grew exponentially every ten minutes or so. The reduced inhibitions and muddled thoughts. No hallucinations, but they weren't necessary or welcome. I found, oddly, I daydreamt more. And it was so easy to get lost in them. I was always _aware_ I was on Ambien, but it was too enticing not to play along with the figments of my mind. We'd go through rides in New York. I'd talk to my alarm clock. I laughed at my pillow.

I didn't need Ambien to sleep anymore. I just liked getting high.

Every night, dutifully, I'd take my pill. I'd always look for a way to rationalize it. I had a bad day? That's fine. I always knew there would be a trip waiting for me at the end of it. Beast Boy was especially obnoxious? That was fine. Just meant I'd need Ambien to wind down later that night. I had a good day? What better way than to top it off with a trip.

I wasn't doing anything _wrong_. They were prescribed to me. And I could take them every night if I damn well pleased.

One day, though- I can't even remember why- everyone was getting on my nerves. Far worse than usual. I wanted to get out of my room, but I also wanted to read. Yet, everyone insisted on making conversation with me. It would be easy to say that's why I got so livid, but somehow it felt like a copout.

 _They want to talk?_ I remember deciding. _Okay. I like to socialize. But it'll be on MY terms._ I excused myself to my room for a moment. I knew there was one thing I could always rely on to make things fun. Though I didn't internalize it at the time, I knew Ambien was the only thing making me happy anymore. It was worth the grogginess the following day. The mood swings and gaps in memory. None of it mattered as long as I got to trip later.

I swallowed my usual dose and returned to the commons. Cyborg and Beast Boy were idly flipping channels.

"Hey, Rae." Beast Boy's face brightened. "You wanna watch some TV now?"

"You bet I would." I could feel my brain starting to shut down. Thinking about it sober, I knew it was screwed up, but Beast Boy was leagues more interesting when I was high.

"Really?" His ears perked up like a dogs and it made me laugh.

"Yesh." I slurred. Only Cyborg seemed to notice. It afforded me just a cursory glance. He seemed to absorbed in football or whatever was flitting around on the screen.

Even in my stupor, I could tell when I was really starting to go braindead. Beast Boy kept yapping about something, and the gummed-up gears in my head worked as quickly as they could to give him the appropriate responses. There were times I said complete nonsense, but when I caught myself on it, I played it off like one of my typical witticisms.

Beast Boy either wasn't smart enough to see through my act, or he was too nervous to blow the amicable conversation we were having. He was making me laugh for once. Not just sarcastic, bitter laughter, either. He was actually humoring me, and it made my heart well up a little.

It was all a lie, but it felt sincere. I liked connecting with him, even if I had to be doped up to do it. The world was closing in around me, and everything was so vibrant and alive. His smile was especially brilliant through my unfocused, bleared eyes.

Somewhere, in my muddled pool of thoughts, I ached to stay this way. For the unending bliss, and to be exactly what he needed and wanted me to be.

It was maybe two hours until the high began to wear off and reality lazily sunk back in. Though it grew easier to think and understand him, the conversation became increasingly uninteresting.

He could tell, and it almost broke me heart to watch his expression gradually fall. I knew this wouldn't work if I continued to sober up. I did all I knew I could.

"Hey, Beast Boy," I offered with a grin. "I just need to use the bathroom quick. Stick around, I want to talk some more."

"Sure, Rae!" His expression brightened again. I didn't know why, and I still don't now. But I wanted that to linger forever.

I arrived at my room within a few minutes, and slid through the door on uneven legs. The sedative was still impairing my muscle coordination. I glanced at myself in the mirror. And, oddly, I was happy with what I saw.

I jittered a bit as I pried the bottle open. I could go a night or two without any. Just one more tonight. For him.

For us.

The thought was crazy, full of holes, and unfocused. In my rational mind, I knew I was acting on impulse. I was jumping into things too quickly, and ignoring all possible negative ramifications.

My heart was welling again. I could make this work. Ambien would just be what sets the groundwork. Yes, that would be fine. Just like I used it for sleep, I'd use it to get closer to Beast Boy. Just like he wanted. And just like I wanted in those dizzying highs and milky vision.

It'd be all right.

I swallowed two.


	2. Chapter 2

I awoke to a steady, rhythmic series of beeps. I reached for my alarm, but my hand swept air. There was a stinging pain in my forearm.

"Ow!" My eyes flung open. Something wasn't right. The room was way too bright and sterile. Fluorescent bulbs and the faint hum of electricity.

"What?" My voice was a harsh, ragged whisper that made me shudder. My tongue was like a dried worm squirming on pavement. The taste of broken, uneven sleep made bile churn in my empty stomach.

I located the source of the stinging in my arm, but I didn't understand why it was there. An IV.

"What?" I croaked out again. What happened the night before? Did I hurt myself? Did I hurt someone else?

"Raven, are you awake?" It was Beast Boy. I noticed him in the corner of the room now. Propped up in an uncomfortable little chair. He looked like his own sleep had been disturbed.

"Beast Boy," I wet my lips to get some saliva flowing. "What happened? Why am I-" I looked around for some clue as to where I was. My head still felt a little sluggish and bogged down. It was starting to come to me though. "Why am I in the infirmary?" I groaned. At the very least, I was still in the Tower.

"You really don't remember?" He rose from the chair and stalled a second, like he nearly collapsed from stiffness. Maybe he almost did. "You started acting really weird." He was at my bedside now. "You were uttering a bunch of total nonsense. I thought you were having a stroke or something. You couldn't walk, either. Christ, Rae. You scared me." There were bags under his eyes. I didn't doubt that he was worried, but he seemed oddly relieved. Like he already knew the source of my strange behavior.

"What happened?" My pride got the better of me. I thought, just maybe, I could feign ignorance. Maybe they hadn't determined the cause. I knew it was wishful thinking, though. Beast Boy lowered his head and rested his arms on the guard rail of my bed. There was only silence broken by my heart monitor and the hum of electricity for a minute or two.

"Why did you take those pills? How many did you take?" I'd never heard him so direct and serious before. It worried me. It made me strangely anxious. Like I couldn't breathe. I still couldn't tell you exactly why, but I was afraid what he'd think. I was afraid he'd draw conclusions. More worryingly, I feared he'd draw the correct conclusions.

"It must have been an accident."

"Even you don't buy that. Do you really think I'm that dumb?" I saw a potential out in that. I was willing to deflect however I had to.

"Heh, well. Do you really want me to answer that?" He wasn't amused. And I was the only one smiling. I suddenly thought back to every joke he told me. Every punchline and every zinger. Every deadpan expression I reciprocated his humor with. Guilt washed over me. I didn't realize how difficult it was on his side of it.

"Do you really feel that way about me?" My chest was seizing up again. Beast Boy could be an idiot, but I never genuinely thought he was. It killed me to think he might really believe I felt that way.

"You can be stupid sometimes," I admitted. "But I don't think you're an idiot."

"Oh yeah?" He was incredulous. "You must have thought so to think I wouldn't notice the way you were acting. That you were getting high or doped up whatever just to tolerate me."

I didn't say anything. He wasn't entirely wrong. I couldn't think of anything to say. My eyes stung, but no tears were coming. I had to avoid looking at him to keep my anxiety managed.

"So, what happens now?" My voice shook, but I wasn't sure if he could detect it or not. I still refused to study his features. Afraid of what might meet me there.

He said bluntly and unapologetically, "I threw away your meds."

"What? _What?_ " There was a brief but intense flicker of anger. The intensity fell from the dual guilt over my actions, but it didn't extinguish.

"Yeah. Did you really think we'd just let you keep taking them? Cyborg ran the analysis. We know what you did." The tone of his voice was cold and pragmatic.

"I _needed_ them to sleep." I argued through gritted teeth.

"Maybe you shouldn't have abused them." He muttered with that same clinical callousness.

"This newfound demeanor isn't very becoming of you."

"Cyborg and Robin are considering getting you into some kind of rehab. I think I might agree with them."

"What the hell are you talking about?" I could feel the grip on my abilities loosening. It took everything I had to hold the chaotic tendrils back. They attempted to lash at whatever was within reach. My bedside tray. The IV stand. Beast Boy himself.

"Evidently, you have a problem. Especially if you need drugs just to talk to me." He sulked indignantly.

"Are you seriously trying to make this about yourself? Don't be such a child." I chided. I wasn't going to be admitted to rehab because he was upset I didn't want to talk with him sober.

"I never said I was going to force anything on you. I said I might agree with their opinion. I don't really care."

I rolled my eyes. "Sure, right. Of course you don't. It's so obvious you don't care by the whole cool, indifferent shtick you're pulling right now." He turned his back to me and stood silent another moment. That interminable heart monitor and mechanized hum bled back in. I could barely resist the urge to telepathically dismantle the room.

"Yeah, maybe you're right. I do care right now. Things change, though. Honestly, I'd rather not care at all."

"Things change"? I felt a heated pang of resentment. "So, suddenly you care about Terra's bogus advice?"

"Shut your mouth." He whipped back the moment I finished speaking. Though the guilt was still there, especially regarding ripping open old wounds, I was still angry.

"So, what?" My throat was getting tight again. He still wasn't looking at me. With every passing second he didn't, the panic inside me swelled. "We aren't friends anymore? Is that what this is?" He went silent again, and the room filled with those obnoxious ambient flits. He cleared his throat as if to speak, hesitated, and then finally answered.

"I guess my answer is as pointless as my feelings. Maybe we still are, but I'll work to make that irrelevant, too." He sounded like a poor imitation of me when he spoke like that. It made me scoff.

"Spare me the theatrics, _Gar._ Our situation doesn't lend much credence to obscure poetic crap like that. Talk straight. What are we?" My hands stretched and bundled the sheets. I was relieved he wasn't looking my way to see me kneading them. It made me feel childish and small. It made me feel how he must every waking moment of his life.

"I'm worried about you. I care about you. I hope you'll get better. But I don't want to be used and I don't want to be a burden you can only tolerate when you're high. If talking to me was such a big deal, I'd rather not talk at all." I could practically taste the defeat in his voice. The anger abated somewhat, but the guilt grew in its place. And still, I was frustrated he could make me feel that way. The anger only managed to stay alive- hollow, but alive- through my sheer will to remain angry with him. I still maintained that his actions seemed childish. I made my own mistakes, but he was behaving petulantly. It was most likely just for the sake of attention. He probably figured he could get me to pity him.

He threw away my Ambien. Even if I could remain on the script, I wouldn't be able to get a refill for weeks.

"Whatever." I muttered. "If you don't care, then I don't."

"Right. Whatever." He sighed. A few seconds passed, and he left the room.


	3. Chapter 3

"Is there a reason you're opting to talk to me one-on-one?" Beast Boy had left maybe twenty minutes ago. It was another ten until I had another visitor. While I expected them to come once they knew I was awake, I also expected them to come together. It was a sole Robin who entered. He slipped in quietly, as if he didn't want me to notice him, and quietly walked along the wall. Once he was within a few feet of my bed, he stopped, back against the wall and arms crossed. Nothing was said until I asked my question.

"We thought you might be a little more open if we didn't crowd you." He was being honest. Ever since the Slade hallucination, a residual bond lingered between our minds. Not enough to decipher coherent thoughts, but enough to detect emotions, and some of their finer subtleties. It came in handy when determining if what he said was genuine. Unfortunately, it also alerted him to my own emotional states. Double-edged sword if there ever was one.

"Open about what? I made a mistake. I'm not going to take them anymore. There's nothing more to it." Even making the vaguest allusions was difficult. Mentioning Ambien by name, at least aloud, seemed almost impossible. Admitting I was wrong was equally difficult. I wasn't generally the one who had to apologize for my actions. I hated feeling like a child.

"You know it's not that easy. You know we aren't just going to drop it. The same way you wouldn't if one of us did something reckless." He was staring at my bedsheets. He had yet to look me in the face. Even so, it wasn't because he was embarrassed. I traced his feelings, and I determined he was doing it out of respect for me. To spare me further embarrassment. A nice sentiment, but one that only disturbed my mood further once I had it figured out.

"And you know exactly what I'll say and what I'm feeling right now. Kind of renders the entirety of our interactions moot, doesn't it?"

"Only if you turn everything into a mental chess game." Finally, he turned his full attention to me. As to whether he figured out I almost wanted him to was up for debate. Being the student of the World's Greatest Detective, though, I couldn't dismiss the possibility.

I sighed. "There's a reason you and I don't talk as frequently anymore."

"Is it because of our bond? Do you feel like it replaces time spent together in person?" He fell for the bait I planted, but I didn't want him to ask me directly. It worried me that I might need to lie. There was a chance he'd know I was.

"Pretty much." I tried to be vague. It wasn't entirely a lie, but I had bigger reasons. I'm not sure that I loved Robin, but I also didn't enjoy seeing him with Starfire every waking moment. As to whether I was envious of her for having him, or just envious of their general affection was unknown even to me. There was a good chance it was a bit of columns A and B.

"That's not entirely the truth, is it?" Damn it. I was acutely aware I needed to control my thoughts and their emotional connotations around him as it was. But it still wasn't uncommon for me to slip up as I just had.

"I prefer the mental chess game." I muttered, frustrated at my inability to quell my envy. I knew even thinking about it now could trigger something, so I nixed the thought prematurely. My mind dipped into static while I tried to tune my attention to another stations. It was evident he could detect that change, too.

"Hey, you're trying to deflect somehow, aren't you?"

"What are you talking about?" I donned my most impeccable poker face. He was skeptical.

"I don't know how to explain it. But I can feel it. When you try to drop something, it's like your brain sends out a new signal."

"I'm _really_ starting to regret possessing you." I shot him a pointed stare. And, naturally, he didn't even flinch. Once again, I didn't know if it was a genuine lack of intimidation or because he could read the animosity was hollow. That was another big reason for avoiding Robin. Interacting with him had become exhausting.

"Maybe we should cut to the chase so I can get out of your hair, then."

"Don't ask me all the cliché questions I know you're about to. This is mortifying enough, and I could deal without you subjecting me to things you most likely know already." I huffed.

"Raven, come on. You're the one invalidating everything. I just want to have a genuine conversation."

"Do you? You want answers, and then you want to force your ideal solution on me. I'm done with the pills, but I'm not going to rehab." I hissed at him, and he did flinch that time.

"I didn't even have that on my mind." His tone was convincing, but now our emotional tether betrayed him. I knew he was lying, and it satisfied me to catch him in a trap.

"Yes you did. Beast Boy told me, anyway. I don't need it. And I don't appreciate you discussing it behind my back."

He sighed and slumped his shoulders. "What do you expect? You were unconscious. The lab showed us what was in your system once we ruled out deadlier causes for your condition."

"You could have _waited_ until I _woke up_ like you must have known I would to consult _me_." The tightness in my chest returned, but it was anger and not anxiety now.

I _loathed_ being treated like a child.

"Raven, you need to listen to me. Maybe you _don't_ need it, okay? But your judgment isn't exactly as trusted as it usually is. Even you must recognize that." While I knew that, I hadn't internalized it. Knowing my opinion wasn't fully valid absolutely killed me. I had to change to subject before I lost control and ripped the room- or Robin himself- apart.

"What did Beast Boy say to you?"

"He told us you were awake." A truth, but a half-truth. A lie of omission.

"What else?" I pressed, growing impatient of these games.

"He, well, said he agrees with Cyborg and me."

"He took your side?" In my current manifestation, the part that agitated me most was I didn't know if he agreed for my benefit or if he agreed to spite me. Any other time, he'd have my back, but when I needed him to side with me most, he betrayed me.

"I'm _not_ going to rehab for a one-time incident."

"We don't want to force you. Though, we might be able to..." He considered it a moment, as if he wasn't sure himself of the legality of such a move.

"If you try anything, I'll tear the place apart. I can't be held anywhere." Instantly, a look of disbelief washed over him. There was a confused whirlpool of emotions whipping and gushing around in his head. The two most intense being anger and that distinct metallic taste of sadness. Disappointment. A hint of betrayal. He was upset I'd even make the threat.

"You wouldn't."

"Don't test me." I warned. "Let's not pretend I'm fully human like the rest of you."

"You really expect that to work on me?"

"That depends. You know I won't kill, but are you ready to accept responsibility for anyone I'd hurt?" Like Beasy Boy before him, he was quiet a long moment. With every consideration as to what he should say, I could feel his emotions rise and fall. A new feeling for each possibility. Reluctantly, I could feel him settle on one.

"It's not just about you, you know. You should think about it for all of our sakes."

"It was never your business to begin with."

"No, I guess not. Not when you dismiss everything and shut us all out." His defeat sounded final, but I could sense below the surface he hadn't dropped it yet.

"I can read your emotions. Don't think I'm deceived."

He sighed again. "Raven, do you ever think maybe this bond we have created the opposite effect? That we aren't as close as we used to be?" I knew what he would say before the words even left his mouth. Because I'd felt the exact same thing a hundred times before. Only now, it worried me that he seemed to feel the same way. A portal into each others' most intimate emotions should have strengthened our relationship. But it drove a wedge between us that seemed insurmountable to overcome. I didn't like what I felt when he was around Starfire. I didn't like that he _knew_ I didn't like it. I didn't like reading between the lines every time we spoke. Every subtle nuance became an exhaustive chore to analyze. He was too sharp as it was. I'd rather he just go away.

"Maybe that's for the best."

"I don't buy that. But tell yourself whatever you want. Cyborg will be here in a few minutes. I'll leave now." I was dually relieved and upset things had ended so sourly. Though, realistically, what could be expected? The thought created more shame than I anticipated, thinking back to what he said.

Yeah, I guess he was right. I'd dismissed every facet of our relationship on the ground we could read each other. I dismissed it on the grounds it no longer seemed necessary. I invalidated our entire friendship out of jealousy and fear.

I doubted I could change it.


	4. Chapter 4

By the time Cyborg rolled around, my patience was thin. I was tired of waiting in awkward silences, so I was quick to let him know: "If you have something to say, please, do it shortly. I'm tired of the same old formula."

"Don't you think you're being a little demanding for someone on the hot seat?" He quipped, raising an eyebrow. "I'm the one who's angry with you." And I _knew_ he had every right to be. But I was so tired and agitated with being told I did something wrong. I was especially furious that they decided for me I'd prefer my punishment one at a time. Nobody was letting me make the calls for myself.

"I _get_ it, okay? What I did was stupid, all right? You think I'm not painfully aware of that? I'm not going to do it again, but I'm also _not_ going to rehab. There's literally _nothing_ you can say to me that isn't re-hashed, hackneyed, or completely pointless. You might as well send Starfire in so I can tell her the same thing."

"You know, I am mad. I'm still furious, honestly. But, at the same time... Why? I mean, you of all of us. That's what makes me angriest. Why were you doing that stuff? Forget rehab and talking to Star. What was it all about? Why did you feel like you needed it?"

I sighed and leaned forward into my knees, which were propped up. "Look, Cyborg," I began. "No offense, but you and I aren't exactly on the same wavelength. We're only really friends through mutual friends. We wouldn't hang with the same crowd. You understand what I'm trying to say here?" His face immediately hardened and went as cold as the metallic plates surrounding it. I didn't need an emotional tether to read the rage and hurt in his features.

"Yeah, you're saying we aren't really friends in your eyes, right?" He was right. I just didn't expect it to affect him the way it had. Given we interacted the least out of anyone on the team, I thought he always felt the same way. I had no qualms with Cyborg, but I didn't feel especially close to him.

I remained silent.

"Well, stupid me for thinking we were then, huh?" The anger in his expression slackened, but it was still bitter. "You feel like I wouldn't "get you" because I'm not some brooding, moody soul, right?"

"Come on, are we really going to do this? I just had two "friendship" discussions."

"That's the thing about you, Raven." He fumed. "You open up these cans of worms and then you try to change the subject when someone calls you on it."

I blew a stray strand of hair from my face. "I didn't _intend_ to "open" anything. I just mentioned what I thought was a mutual understanding. We were never on bad terms. We got along. But, for one moment, did you honestly think you and I were true friends?" It didn't even feel harsh saying it. There were times he made me laugh. It wasn't uncommon for me to return the favor. We ate together sometimes, discussed books or cars, whatever. But I never thought of him as someone I could really open up to. Isn't _that_ what a real friend is supposed to be?

"From the sound of things, you don't have many friends on this team."

"What?"

"I'm talking about your attitude. You're trying to shut everyone out. Trying to act like all of it means nothing. You're acting like you don't care about Beast Boy. You told Robin your friendship with him was meaningless. And now you're telling me you never thought of me as a friend. Sounds like one lie after another, if you ask me. What'll you tell Star?" As he spoke those final words, his face twisted into disgust. "Maybe you _shouldn't_ talk to her." He idly mused to himself.

"It doesn't matter. Anyway, are we done? I acknowledged what I did. I assured you it won't happen again."

"You say that, but you seem awfully evasive. Everything you say seems like a copout, honestly. You don't seem genuinely sorry."

"I _don't like_ having to repeat my apologies ad nauseum. It stands to reason I'd be a _little_ irritated by now."

Cyborg opened his mouth as if to scold me more. Or perhaps it was an insult in wait. But nothing came out. Instead, he slumped his shoulders. Expression still hard, but not angry. Searching me. Scanning my body. Looking for a sign. But of what, I couldn't say.

"Well?" I rasped.

"Not friends, huh?" I didn't need my divine powers of empathy to read his pain. I didn't hate Cyborg. I never had. I thought we both understood.

Unable to tolerate his anguished face, I turned away. Holding my bent knees as if to brace myself for some kind of turbulence.

Without a word, he disappeared.


End file.
